Page 7 of Savoring Her Snake

“I also have free drink coupons for the hotel bar,” I offer, sliding them toward him. I resist plunging the pen into his eye.

“Damn, that’s an excellent deal.” I slide my gaze to a stunning blonde. She leans beside him, propping her elbow on the counter, giving me a wink before focusing on the man. She has short blonde hair that’s naturally tousled, a trim, compact body, and an outfit that screams confidence. “I mean, a free room and drinks. How did you get so lucky?” She leans toward him, fluttering her fingers over his hand.

“Well, I suppose,” he says, facing her. “Are you staying here?” I fight the roll of my eyes. Men are so predictable. He wouldn’t flirt with me, thinking I’m beneath him.

“I am.” She smiles, but I can tell it’s fake. “I’m meeting some family. Very boring, but it has to be done.” She sighs dramatically, but he’s convinced and nods sympathetically.

“Of course.” He grins and scans her up and down. “If you're up for a drink sometime,” he says, holding out a business card.

“That would be great,” she says. “You’re probably tired from traveling. Why don’t you settle in your clean room?”

“Right, right,” he mumbles, glaring at me. “Key,” he demands.

I drop the pen and place the key card in his open palm. “Thank you so much, Sir. Please let me know if you have any issues with this room.” I smile wider.

“Uh-huh.” He nods at the blonde and walks away.

“What a dick,” she snorts. “Some people love to complain about every fucking thing.” She waves toward my face. “I bet that hurts.” I lose my smile, rubbing my jaw.

“All the time,” I say. I knew she was acting. “You were good with him.”

“I’ve had to deal with my fair share of assholes,” she responds.

“Thank you. He wasn’t going to be happy with anything I said,” I say.

“They rarely are,” she snorts.

“Are you staying here?” I push up with my toes and don’t see any bags by her feet.

“A friend got me a room. I’m waiting for my girlfriends,” she explains, folding her arms across the counter. “My name’s Sally.”

“Juliana, but you can call me Jules.” She isn’t the usual customer.

“Well, Jules,” she says, widening her eyes. “I’m going to have to stay out very late every night to avoid the suit.” She motions over her shoulder.

“Sorry about that,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “I’ll run interference if I’m here.”

“Deal.” She looks over her shoulder, and I follow her gaze. Two women are walking quickly toward Sally. “They have arrived.” She looks back at me and takes a step away. “You should join us when you aren’t working. I have a feeling we’d get along.” Her expression is odd, like she knows something I don’t.

“Sure,” I reply. I don’t have any friends, so a night out would be fun, and for some reason, I’m excited to know Sally.

“Great.” She digs in her clutch, pulling out her phone. “Put your number in.” I quickly do as she asks. “Later, Jules.” She grins, waves her hand while holding her phone, and saunters to her friends.

“Who was that?” Jen, my co-worker, whispers.

“That was Sally.” I blink and look at her. “I think she has superpowers.”

“She certainly calmed the customer.” She looks me over. “She also convinced you to do something other than work.” Jen moves back to her area.

Jen is correct. All I do is work or sleep. She’s probably still mad because I missed her birthday party. I committed to going, but the bar owner called me in, and I forgot to tell her I couldn’t make it. I’m not great at making friends. There have only been a handful of other times my coworkers have invited me out, and every time, I decline.

I glance at the clock; thankfully, it’s almost the end of my shift. Lifting my left foot, I prop my hip against the low counter, attempting to relieve some pressure. I despise my uniform. All of the receptionists have to wear a navy-blue skirt and matching blazer. The heels are a must, which I learned when I wore flats on the first day of the job. I thought they were kidding. They supply you with the outfit and an ivory shirt with buttons up to your neck to wear underneath the blazer. I hate the ivory shirt. I usually can get away with wearing anything that is white, but I forgot to do laundry. Instead, I am wearing a black, silky tank. My neck is bare, and I have been expecting someone in management to say something. At the very least, I thought Letty would give me the stink eye.

Letty is perfect. Perfect in job performance, customer service, and kissing the boss' ass at every opportunity. The first time I said fuck at work, I thought she was going to faint. Her hair, clothes, and posture are never out of place.

I strongly dislike Letty.

Switching feet, I see her float by, sweet-talking a customer. Figures.

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